Fashion, Baby
by Sandrene09
Summary: Kurt Hummel is a world known fashion designer. Blaine Anderson is a world known model. They hate each other with a passion, and it just so happened that they had to work together. AU.
1. Chapter 1

Author's note: Oh my gosh! I ACTUALLY HAD THE GUTS TO POST THIS. Thanks for the courage, Blaine. Anyway, I hope you like it, and I hope you enjoy.

Disclaimer: I don't own Glee, or the characters. I probably never will.

**Day 0: Meeting Blaine Anderson**

Kurt Hummel was a god to those in the fashion industry. He was someone to be admired, to be idolized. People from everywhere loved his designs and bought them for high prices.

There was no denying it; Kurt Hummel truly made it to the top. He made it, from a gay kid bullied every day, to a rich and successful man who had his own designer brand. He was famous, and he was talented.

Even though Kurt Hummel was a god to those in the fashion industry, he was the complete opposite to those who worked for him. Those who worked for him absolutely hated him.

"Good morning Mr. Hummel," a girl said.

"What's good about the morning, Ciara?" Kurt asked.

Ciara, used to how Kurt spoke to her, immediately replied. "Well, the fabrics that you ordered are here, Mr. Hummel. Also, Mr. Hart called and confirmed your reservation for your fashion show next month."

"Good."

They reached wooden doors, and without a word, they each pushed a door. Kurt walked in the hallway with a purpose, his boots tapping against the marble floors.

"I'll go now Mr. Hummel," Ciara said. He ignored her as usual and walked to his office where he was shocked to see Mercedes, his manager.

He smiled. "Hello Mercedes. What brings you here?"

"Hello Kurt." She took out a pen and a pad of paper. "I heard that your fashion show next month is a go."

"It is."

"Then how come you haven't come to me and told me about the details?" Mercedes demanded.

"I only knew since this morning!" Kurt defended. "I don't even have any details planned yet. All I know is the location, and the collection I'll be using for the fashion show, nothing more. I don't even have models yet."

Mercedes' eyebrow rose. "You have no models?"

"Not yet. I'll start looking for models today," Kurt said.

"Say no more. I'll bring them to you. How many models do you need?"

"I'll need about ten models," Kurt said.

"Consider it done," Mercedes replied.

"When will I get the list of models you'll have for me?" Kurt asked.

"You'll get it this afternoon. I'll bring the models along so you can meet them, judge them, and determine which clothing's best for them. Also, I'm warning you now that you can't change your models, no matter how much you hate them, or how much their clothing combination sucks, okay? I will not waste my time looking for a model you will ultimately reject."

Kurt laughed. "That was one time, Mercedes. He had bad odor. I'm pretty sure that if I let him go on the runway, people would faint, row by row."

"Well, I'll just be sure to choose guys who don't have bad odor then. Okay?"

Kurt nodded. "Okay."

Mercedes smiled at him one last time before she pushed one of the glass doors and got out. Kurt smiled, and started checking his emails. One email caught his eye, and after he read it, his smile quickly turned into pursed lips. He received an email from his boyfri—sorry, _ex boyfriend_, who broke up with him using an _email._ Kurt blinked away tears. He didn't care that much for the guy and true, their relationship was caging him, but he was sad nonetheless. When would he find someone with who he would be happy to be in a relationship with?

His day got worse when, at lunch, his soup spilled on his shirt because of a waiter who knocked onto his table. His day got even worse when his car wouldn't start, and he had to take a taxi back to his office. He hated taxis.

* * *

><p>His door opened loudly, and he looked up from his desk to see Mercedes, smiling like she found gold.<p>

"Mercedes, back so soon?"

She sat at one of the two chairs located on the front of his desk. "What can I say? I'm a good model hunter."

Kurt's eyes widened. "You found models already? I wasn't expecting you to make good on your word. I was hell bent on thinking that you wouldn't have models for me until at least tomorrow."

"You hurt me very deeply with your words, Kurt." Mercedes' smile showed that she was joking. "Anyway, yes, I have found your models. I chose those who I liked, and I made sure that they are available on the date of the fashion show."

"Well, where are they?" Kurt asked impatiently.

Mercedes walked to the door, opened it, and five men and five women went inside. She walked to Kurt's desk, got ten folders from her bag, and sat back down.

He opened a folder and saw that they were the models' information. He looked at them, thinking about which clothes would fit best who, when he saw _him._

He was smaller than Kurt. He had hazel eyes, and triangular eyebrows which were as thick and as bushy as caterpillars. His hair had so much gel in it; he probably wouldn't get hurt if ever a brick fell on his head.

"Oh my God, Mercedes, how can you pick him?" Kurt asked, not bothering to whisper.

"How can I pick who?" Mercedes asked.

"That guy," Kurt looked at his folder, "Blaine Anderson! He's short, Mercedes. Short."

Said guy let out a shout of "Hey! I'm not _that _short!" But Kurt ignored him. Instead, Kurt looked at Mercedes expectantly, tapping his shoes in impatience.

"Kurt, he's one of the best models the agencies have to offer. He's one of the best."

"But," Kurt whined, "He's short Mercedes. Shortening some of the pants will require a lot of time, which I don't have! I still have to do some more designs, and I can't allot so much time on one model."

"I thought you were a professional?" the guy—Blaine—challenged.

"Who said you can speak?" Kurt asked, already irritated with the guy. "Did I give you permission to speak?"

"Well no, but it's in my rights-"

"You see? No. I didn't give you any permission to speak. So speak, you shall not." Kurt said. He then turned to Mercedes. "You see? You picked someone who's rude. I thought you picked the best of the best?"

Mercedes stifled a laugh. "You were rude too, Kurt."

"I was not! I was being realistic, not rude."

"Excuses, excuses."

Kurt harrumphed and walked out of the office. Mercedes smiled, and looked at the men and women. "Excuse me, I will be back shortly."

She went out of the office and went to where Kurt was. "What is your problem with him?"

"He's short, he has triangular eyebrows, he has so much gel in his hair, he's short, and, did I mention he's short?" Kurt said sarcastically.

"What is it with you and short people?" Mercedes asked.

"It's not short people I'm annoyed at. It's him."

"Why? You barely know him. You didn't even have a full conversation with him that didn't include you two fighting with each other."

"I don't know," Kurt sighed. "Maybe it's because Anderson reminds me too much of _him._"

Mercedes hugged him and said, "Honey, you need to move on. He isn't Anderson, and Anderson isn't him. Relax, will you? Besides, you're not in a relationship with Blaine therefore, he can't hurt you. We're not even sure he's gay!"

"You're right, I'm sorry, I just had a bad day," Kurt said.

"Now go back in there and apologize to him," Mercedes said.

"Alright, I will."

* * *

><p>Blaine Anderson was annoyed. Who was this man to call him short? He wasn't <em>that <em>short. He was only shorter than the man by an inch or two! Well, maybe four or five, since the man was wearing boots, but still. He couldn't believe that, just mere moments ago, he was attracted to Kurt Hummel. Who wouldn't be attracted to him, with his eyes that turn from blue to green to gray, with his porcelain skin, and his nice figure? He even had a nice voice, and Blaine could imagine just how good their voices might sound if ever they sung a duet, but Blaine didn't think of him the same way now. Sure, he was still attractive to Blaine, but Blaine's crush on him dissolved a little when he saw just how awful Kurt's personality was.

The glass doors opened to reveal Mercedes and Kurt walking inside. Kurt walked to his desk. "I'm sorry Anderson, for my inability to be professional a while ago."

Blaine looked at him in the eye, and said, "So you do have a heart. I thought you were a heartless fool."

Kurt looked at him and saw the fire burning in his eyes. He was taken aback. Did Anderson just insult him? Well, Anderson wanted to play with fire, so he will. And you know what they say, fight fire with fire.

Kurt ignored him and looked at Mercedes. "He'll do, I suppose. Even though he has a mouth that he couldn't keep shut."

"Well, you're one to talk," Blaine said.

Kurt glared at him. "If you value your dignity, and your manhood, you would stop talking right now."

"Well, as you said, I'm short. Maybe with the way you're glaring right now, you would miss your target if ever you wanted to kick me."

"Who said I was going to kick you? What if I wanted to throw a stapler at you?"

"Oh please, I saw your desk, you don't have a stapler."

"You know what? I won't waste my time on you, Anderson." Kurt looked at all the models. "Turn around slowly."

All the models did so, and Kurt started planning their outfits in his head. "Return here tomorrow at nine in the morning, sharp. All latecomers would be jabbed by pins when I adjust the clothing on said latecomers. That is all."

The models left, one by one, until only Mercedes and Kurt were left. Mercedes sat at one of the chairs in front of his desk and said, "Did you really have to do that? Did you really have to threaten them?"

"I didn't want anyone to be late. Most of the time, people don't listen until you threaten them. That's what Sue taught me."

Mercedes laughed. "You don't have to follow everything that crazy woman taught you."

Kurt continued working on some papers. "She taught me all the things I needed to know."

"Whatever. Listen, I won't be here tomorrow, so I'm saying this now," Mercedes said, turning Kurt's chin up so that he would look at her, "be nice. Don't torment the poor guy."

"Do I really need to hire him? Can't you just find someone else?" Kurt whined.

"He's one of the best. I guarantee you that if people saw him wearing your clothes; your sales would go over the roof."

Kurt scoffed. "Please. My sales are already over the roof."

"You're just scared to hire him because he's attractive," Mercedes teased.

"Mercedes, he's short," Kurt deadpanned. Of course, he didn't tell her that he found Blaine's hazel eyes completely gorgeous, and that he wanted twirl his fingers around Blaine's curls, if only Blaine stopped using so much gel.

"Whatever you say, white boy," Mercedes said. She winked at him and opened the door, starting to walk out.

"I do not have a crush on Blaine Anderson!" Kurt shouted.

Mercedes ignored him and just went inside the elevator, waving goodbye to him as the elevator doors closed. As Kurt's office was made of glass, he glared at her, knowing that she would see him. He became annoyed, however, when Mercedes ignored his bitch stare and just waved until the elevator doors closed and he could see her no more.

He huffed. "I am not attracted to Blaine Anderson," he repeated to himself. He found himself looking at Blaine's folder, and looked at his picture. "Just because he has pretty eyes, and he has a nice body doesn't mean I like him," Kurt said to himself.

He ignored the fact that he did find Blaine attractive.

He just told himself that no one needed to know, especially Mercedes.

What she didn't know won't hurt her.

* * *

><p>Kurt opened the door to his penthouse suite and took a good look around. His ex boyfriend's things were gone. <em>I guess Sean really did leave me for good, <em>he thought sadly.

He ignored the pang in his heart and kept on walking to his bedroom. A quick look at the closet showed that his boyfriend took all his things, and that he probably won't be coming back for any other things, because he already took them all.

He got out of his clothes and carefully folded them. He put on his pyjamas and started walking to his king sized bed.

The bed was, of course, made of Egyptian cotton. Kurt Hummel deserved only the best, and beds were included in that rule.

He just wished that the bed wasn't quite so empty, or lonely for that matter.

He just shrugged, slipping under the covers, and stopped imagining a certain hazel eyed boy cuddling with him.

If Mercedes found out about what he was imagining, he would never hear the end of it.


	2. Chapter 2

Author's note: Okay, I am…speechless. Thank you for the reviews, the story alerts, and the story favorites. I've never had so many story alerts on one day. Ever. Also, Reviews make me happy. Cough, cough. Also, I forgot to say that the title was taken from Lady Gaga's Bad Romance.

Also, this chapter has smut, or at least, what I consider as smut. (I am really a messed up person.) I don't know, maybe it's not smut, but it's…something. It's my first time writing stuff like that so…I don't know. Tell me if I did well.

Disclaimer: I don't own Glee. That's pretty obvious, isn't it?

**Day 1: "Don't flatter yourself, Anderson."**

Blaine was never late, ever. He was constantly praised for his punctuality, diligence, and constant need to perfect everything. After all, he was being paid to do those things. He always woke up at seven in the morning, made breakfast, got dressed and fixed his hair before he went to work.

But unfortunately, at that day, Blaine didn't get up at seven in the morning. Instead, he woke up at eight thirty, and he just then remembered that he had to be at the office at nine, which was why he was riding a taxi as a last resort, mourning over not having the time to properly gel his hair.

_Sweat slicked bodies rubbed against one another, the air around them hot. Arousal and lust were the scent of the air, but the two boys didn't care._

_The porcelain skinned boy moaned, his cock brushing against Blaine's. His moans were silenced by Blaine's lips devouring his, and his hands were fisting the sheets underneath him._

"_Blaine," he moaned. It was a silent plead for him to move faster—rub faster—and bring them over the edge. Blaine groaned in response and found a fast but steady rhythm. Kurt's mouth opened but no sound came out, his stormy blue eyes darkened by arousal. Blaine stopped kissing his lips and moved to his jaw, nibbling until he reached Kurt's ear. He nipped at the lobe, making a mental note that Kurt was particularly sensitive to that spot as he was whimpering. "Please, Blaine," he moaned. Blaine moved to the place where Kurt's ear and jaw neck met, and started placing a hickey there._

"_Oh, please Blaine, fuck, please." Kurt was whimpering now, desperate to come, his back arching, his hips rising. Blaine teases him, however, and Kurt tries to glare at him, but failed because of his need to be brought over the edge._

"_Not yet, Kurt," Blaine said, stifling his moans._

"_How come you're still talking?"_

"Here we are," the gruff cab driver said, stopping in front of the Hummel offices. Blaine shook his head, trying to clear his mind of what he was thinking and paid the driver. He quickly ran to the elevator, seeing as it was nine fifteen in morning.

He was late.

Damn it.

* * *

><p>Kurt Hummel sighed, looking at his watch. It was already nine fifteen, and Blaine Anderson wasn't there. Because he was already late, Kurt made the models go to the room where they would be fitted with the various clothes by Kurt's assistants. It just so happened that, since Blaine was late, Kurt was the one who would assist Blaine. Of course, he could just swap places with one of his assistants, but they were probably doing a lot of things at that moment.<p>

_Who are you kidding? You just want to touch Blaine's muscles,_ Kurt's subconscious said.

He shook his head, and continued signing some papers he needed to send out before the show. That was not true. He wasn't attracted to Blaine Anderson.

At least, that was what he told himself.

His door opened, and without even looking, he knew it was Blaine Anderson. The hairs on his neck rose, and so, he knew it was him.

He ignored the nagging part of his brain that told him that the reason why his hairs rose was because he felt a connection to Blaine.

That was most certainly not true.

"You're late, Anderson," he said, reading some of the files sent to him. "While you were gone, _Caterpillar_ called. They want their hard hat back. Apparently, you stole it," he said nonchalantly.

Kurt finally stopped looking at the files and looked at Blaine. He was surprised—but not disapprovingly so—to note that Blaine hadn't put in gel in his hair.

"So this is what the beggar at the alley was talking about," he said, looking at Blaine's hair. "I _was_ going to see a sign that would prove the world is ending. Well, two signs, your _hair,_ and the fact that you were late. Why were you late? Previous companies recommended you to Mercedes because you were, apparently, punctual. If you can't be professional, tell me immediately so you can find another job. Why were you late—at your first day, might I add—when you started working for me, but not when you were working for them?"

Blaine glared at him. "Okay, first, I won't attempt being professional to you because it's a two-way street. If you're not professional to me, then I won't be professional to you. Simple as that."

"I'm the one who hands you your paychecks," Kurt reminded him.

"I'm the one who decides if your clothes should be modeled properly to look good in public. I can always, I don't know, model your clothes while dancing the Macarena."

Kurt harrumphed and crossed his arms in response. Blaine grinned. "Second thing, my being late wasn't a case of unprofessionalism. I just so happened to have had a bad dream, and so, I didn't hear my alarm."

_Kurt's hand in his hair, gripping it quite hard, his moans so loud, they could be heard next door…_

…Yup, definitely a bad dream. Blaine wasn't attracted to Kurt Hummel. He was obnoxious!

He shook his head and continued, "Besides, it was only one time. I promise never to be late again. It wouldn't be a habit, don't you worry."

Kurt nodded and stood up, taking Blaine's hand in his, walking out of his office to the hallway. "Well, since you were late, you'll be assisted into the clothes by me." He ignored the butterflies in his stomach when he touched Blaine's hand. "You better start praying, Anderson."

He opened the mahogany door and let Blaine in. Inside were ten cubicles, in which Blaine assumed, the models were to be dressing. There were three stools in front of a large table where there were three big mirrors surrounded by big light bulbs. On the other side of the room, there were also three stools in front of a large table with three big mirrors with light bulbs. The difference was that the table on the right of the room was for make-up, and the table on the left of the room was for hair care.

"Impressed?" Kurt's asked haughtily. He was surprised, however, when Blaine replied.

"No," Blaine scoffed. "_Mixer _has a better studio."

"Well, my brand _Pavarotti _has better clothes. Now, start moving."

Blaine walked quickly to one of the cubicles, but when he reached them, he stopped abruptly. "You're not going in there with me, are you?"

"Don't flatter yourself, Anderson. I've seen dogs with better physique than you," Kurt said, his hands occupied with a lot of clothes.

"You like looking at dogs _that_ way? You're one sick twisted man, Hummel."

"Who said I looked at dogs that way?"

"Well you were looking at me _that _way, so when you compared me to dogs, I thought you were also looking at them _that _way."

"I wasn't looking at you _that _way, Anderson. Don't flatter yourself. I've seen dogs with better physique than you."

"And here we are again!" Blaine said, exasperated.

Kurt fixed him with one of his famous bitch stares. "I do not look at dogs that way. I also don't look at you that way. Wear this," he said, pointing to a gray polo shirt, "with this, and this," he continued, pointing to white skinny jeans and a black fedora hat.

Blaine nodded and went inside the cubicle. "You know," came the voice from inside the cubicle, "if I didn't know any better, I'd think you were attracted to me. But then I would remember that you're heartless, and then I wouldn't be thinking that anymore."

Kurt laughed, but inside he was screaming in fear. Blaine didn't know what he thought about, right?

Kurt shook his head, and mentally scolded himself. _Why should you be afraid when you are not in any way attracted to Blaine Anderson?_ He asked himself.

He realized that Blaine was expecting him to answer, and so, he said the first thing he thought of.

"Don't flatter yourself, Anderson."

"Why? Because you saw dogs with better physique than me?"

Kurt huffed. "Now you're just mocking me."

He heard Blaine's chuckles from inside the cubicle. "Right, because you don't do that to me," he said sarcastically.

"I admit that I do. But to be fair, I only do that to you because I can't stand you," Kurt replied, casually checking his nails if they needed to be cleaned again or not.

"You do that to me alone? I'm so touched."

"Don't flatter yourself, Anderson," Kurt immediately replied.

"Yeah, yeah, I know, because dogs have better physique than me."

Kurt huffed. "You are so impossible."

"So are you," came the muffled reply.

"I'm out of here. When you're done, go to the make-up station."

Kurt looked at him, his eyes roaming to his shoulders down to his hips, down to his legs, then to his feet…

"I knew it," Kurt said. "I knew I had to fix the pants for you. Why do you have to be so…vertically challenged?"

…the pant's hem covered Blaine's feet.

"How are you going to wear your shoes, if those are covering your feet? You could trip on the runway—admittedly, that would be nice, but that won't do for my clothes."

Blaine sighed, frustrated. "Alright, enough with the height! I'm only smaller than you by an inch or two, maybe four or five if you're wearing heels, but enough! Don't blame me, blame my DNA."

Kurt sighed. He crouched down and got his pins. "You've been watching too much CSI lately."

"How do you know I like CSI?" Blaine asked. "Are you my stalker?"

Kurt sighed and measured how long the pants should be trimmed. "Don't flatter yourself, Anderson. It's in your file, along with reading Vogue and watching football. Why do you even like CSI?"

"So I would know how to kill you and how to get away with it."

"Ala _Horrible Bosses_? Anyway, I was very interested in what you put in the sports section of the file."

"If it's something stupid, I swear, I'll kill Wes."

"Who's Wes?" Kurt asked.

"…My manager. What did he put in there?"

"Playing football, soccer, rugby…"

Blaine let out a relieved sigh. "Those are true."

"…and apparently, competitive eating," Kurt finished.

"What?" Blaine shouted. The other models, startled by his shout, looked at him, and when he shouted, he jumped, insulted that Wes had actually put in something so stupid in his file, and in doing so, Kurt's pin jabbed him.

"Ow! That hurt."

"You jumped, Anderson. What did you expect? That the pin would just vanish? You jumped, it jabbed you. It's just action and reaction."

Kurt finished adjusting the pant hems and looked at Blaine. He looked quite handsome in his gray polo shirt, his white skinny jeans, his black fedora hat, and his shiny black leather shoes. But something was missing.

Kurt racked his brain. Blaine looked absolutely gorgeous, and the polo shirt defined his muscles quite amazingly. His skinny jeans showed his _ass_ets, and his hat made him look quite…_dapper._

Especially since he went through hair care and got his 50's hair style back. Except, they didn't use gel—Kurt hated it on Blaine since it reminded him of his old glee club teacher—they used mousse. As a result, the hair looked shiny without the helmet look the gel would bring.

"Something's missing," Kurt said.

"Your heart," replied Blaine.

"Ha ha, very funny," Kurt said sarcastically.

Suddenly, Kurt ran outside the room, and after a few seconds, Kurt went back inside.

"What was that all about?"

"I knew what was missing," Kurt said, a smile on his face. Blaine loved that smile on his face because it highlighted his baby blue eyes, and that made him look so gorgeous…

…not that he wasn't already gorgeous, he was! The blue eyes and the smile just made Blaine more attracted to him…

Blaine cleared his throat, and Kurt fixed him with a glare for interrupting what he was saying. "And I thought of this."

…On Kurt's hand was a pair of suspenders. They were black with white polka dots. "Wear these," he said. "Then go outside this room and go to the door on your left."

Kurt left, and Blaine stared at the suspenders as if they were mocking him. With a sigh, he put them on, and went to the room where Kurt told him to go.

It was obvious that the room was a studio. There was a long white cloth on the furthest wall from the door, and there were photographer's equipments around the place where the long white cloth was on the floor. Kurt was speaking to a photographer, and there were nine models seated on stools near the right wall. Blaine walked to the other models, and sat down beside David, one of his dear friends.

"You were late, today. What happened?" David asked.

"Bad dream."

"Really? Or was it a Kurt dream?"

Blaine looked at David with wide eyes. David was grinning manically. "I am so going to tell Wes this."

"It was not a Kurt dream!" he whispered loudly so that David would hear but Kurt wouldn't.

"We're not stupid, you know. We can see how you look at Kurt, and how he looks at you."

Blaine grumbled. "I do not look at Kurt that way."

"Whatever you say," David said with a grin.

Blaine was about to respond when Kurt came to them. "Alright. Here's what we're going to do. You're all going to smile at the camera, and we're going to have three individual shots of all of you. Then, we're going to have a formal photo with all of you, a wacky photo of all of you, and just to be clear, in those three individual shots, one would be with you facing the camera, one would be of you with your back towards the camera, and one side-shot. Questions?"

Nobody responded.

"Okay! After those shots, my assistants and I would help you into your other outfits, and then some more photos, and then we're done. If nothing goes wrong, then I expect that we'll be done by five. You'll have a half an hour lunch break at twelve thirty." Kurt turned to look at the photographer, and the photographer gave him a thumbs-up. "Alright, we're ready. Harris, Jane, you're going to come first."

* * *

><p>The rain was coming down heavily at seven in the evening. That much, Kurt could see from his place in the elevator. He exited the elevator, careful not to lose hold on the folders he was holding.<p>

"Your driver is out front, Mr. Hummel," Ciara said.

"Did I receive any messages?"

"No, you did not, sir."

"Good. Please call me if anyone important calls," he said, and then he walked away to the front doors. Ciara's eyebrow rose. Please? He never said please before.

It was then that she noticed him holding a picture of a guy with curly black hair, and triangular eyebrows.

"Whoever that guy was, he's making Mr. Hummel improve," Ciara said to herself. "I approve of you, Mr. Curly."


	3. Chapter 3

Author's note: I really appreciate the reviews, and the story alerts, and the story favorites, and the few who had me on author alerts. Thank you! (I would, however, appreciate it if you would review more. Reviews are my inspiration. The more, the faster I would update.)

Disclaimer: I don't own Glee since my name isn't Ryan Murphy, nor is it Brad Falchuck, nor is it Ian Brennan, and because I don't own a company called Fox.

**Day 2: Model Training**

"Crescent, Vanessa!" Kurt called out.

The girl—Vanessa—walked to where Kurt had pointed her to go. She stood there ramrod straight, afraid of Kurt being mad at her.

Kurt nodded. "Good."

"Harris, Jane, please go to the side of Vanessa, thank you."

"Porter, Cristelle!"

"Vritz, Penny!"

"Zenith, Ollie!"

Blaine watched with a bored eye as the models were put on various places, their backs straight, their eyes seeing straight ahead, not wanting to make eye contact with Kurt. He knew that they didn't want to end up like him, being Kurt's very nemesis. They couldn't afford to get fired like he could. They were beautiful, sure, but they were not that famous like Blaine. Blaine could easily get another job with a snap of his fingers, and Wes would get right on it, which was why he was currently wondering why the hell he still wasn't snapping his fingers.

He told himself that it would be good for his career if he worked under the _Kurt Hummel_ of the fashion industry, but really, deep down, he knew that he was staying because he was challenged.

Being attracted to Kurt was a bonus, though.

Blaine mentally scolded himself and silently chanted a mantra—"I am not attracted to Hummel"—to himself, mentally of course.

Kurt clapped his hands to get everyone's attention. "Boys, go behind the girls. Arrange yourselves alphabetically, and stand two feet behind the girls. I need to be able to see everybody." He paused. "On second thought, girls, go behind the boys, stand two feet behind them in alphabetical order. I might not be able to see Anderson if the boys were in the back."

Several of the guys snickered and Blaine mentally slapped his check, telling himself, mentally of course, that he should really quit while it was not yet too late.

The guys stepped forward, and the girls backward, until Kurt was completely satisfied. He walked near the models, inspecting their postures.

"Why is your name Blaine?" Kurt asked Blaine while he was walking around the models. "Is your mother a big fan of Pretty in Pink?"

Blaine scoffed. "No, no, my mother named me after a town in Canada, actually," he drawled out sarcastically. "She's a big fan of the town _Blaine Lake _in Saskatchewan."

"Very funny," he deadpanned.

After Kurt had inspected the models, he went to the front and tapped his shoe to get the models' attentions.

"I am impressed with your postures, except for Anderson here," he said, pointing to Blaine, "who was hunching." He turned to look at Blaine, his face in a mock innocent look. "Oh, you poor baby, are the eyebrows too heavy?"

Blaine glared at him, his eyes closing a bit, but not entirely, mentally killing Kurt with just his eyes.

"Anyway, the reason why I told you to come here at seven and not nine is because we're going to have model training. It is important for you to have this training as I'm not sure who's used to the runway, who's used to the fashion shows, and who's not used to them at all."

The models glanced around, nervous.

"Your lunch break would be from twelve to one, and I expect this to be done by six." Kurt looked around, trying to judge who would have no problem at all, doing the training. "The training will be conducted by me, my manager, Mercedes Jones, and my former boss, Sue Sylvester."

Blaine shuddered and looked around. The models were casting nervous looks upon each other. They all knew who Sue Sylvester was.

She was popular for her brand _Cheerios _which sold sports outfits. She was also popular for her being strict and determined, as well as for her being judgemental. Everybody respected her, and everybody knew who she was. Nobody crossed her, because they knew that they would just get humiliated by the great Sue Sylvester.

At that moment, a girl in a pinstriped suit and a girl wearing a tracksuit came in.

"Porcelain!"

The models looked at the direction of the door and saw none other than Mercedes Jones and Sue Sylvester coming towards Kurt, who was near them.

_Oh boy._

* * *

><p>Blaine looked at the three who were sitting at a long table. They had papers in front of them, and Sue Sylvester had a bullhorn.<p>

"Stick figures, get closer to this table!" she shouted with her bullhorn. Blaine winced, rubbing his ears. The models walked towards the table, but not too close.

"Alright," Sue said, putting down her bullhorn, "we're going to examine you one by one, and say the things you have to change. When I call your name, you will walk towards the table, stand straight, and the rest will be handled by us."

The models nodded and went to opposite sides of the room. "Vanessa Crescent!" Kurt called out. Poor Vanessa walked shakily to the front.

"Your posture needs to be improved. Stop shaking," Mercedes said.

"I agree with Mercedes," Kurt said.

But Sue just shook her head. "Your hair looks like it hadn't been combed for centuries, your necklace is actually rusting, and your nails looked like you used them to clean your toilet. Honestly, did you even cut your nails? Next!"

"Walter Winchester!"

Sue looked at him, an appalled look on her face as he walked towards the table. "Your name, oh my God, your name. Your parents _do _know there are other letters in the alphabet, right?"

…_says the girl who was named Sue Sylvester, _Blaine thought.

One by one, the models were examined by the three, until Blaine was called. He walked to the center, and winced when Sue looked at him.

"How, _how, _did you even consider hiring him? He's so short he could probably hide inside a closet!" Sue said. Mercedes winced, and Kurt looked at Sue coolly. "I wasn't the one who wanted to hire him."

"Just, look at his hair! His hair is probably the home of rats and some other wild animals! His eyebrows look like caterpillars, and his height! I doubt that the people would see him, even if there would be a runway."

Blaine made a noise of protest, but Sue ignored him. "He actually reminds me of that designer Schuester. They have the same affinity for handfuls of hair gel. You two just can't follow directions, can you? The bottle said that a drop of gel would do! But no, you had to put half a bottle of gel."

Blaine winced and dejectedly walked away.

"You have an hour break," Kurt said. "Anderson, follow me."

Blaine sighed and walked towards Kurt who was walking away. Great, another person who was probably going to go and throw more insults his way.

"I feel bad for what happened to you," Kurt started, "Sue just really says those kinds of things."

"I know."

"Let me make it up to you. Let's have coffee, my treat."

"Don't," Blaine sighed, "just don't. I'll probably just go home."

Kurt sighed and grabbed his arm before Blaine could even walk away. "No. I'm taking you out for coffee, and that's that."

Blaine ignored how his heart fluttered with just that tiny touch on his hand.

* * *

><p>"Here's your medium drip," Kurt said as he handed Blaine his coffee.<p>

"Thanks," Blaine said.

Kurt only smiled in response and sat opposite of Blaine. "I'm so sorry, I keep on forgetting that Sue can be pretty scary and hurtful to those who don't know her that well yet."

"It's alright," Blaine muttered. "It's just that, why are you two so hell bent at pointing out the stuff wrong with me? I'm human, just like everybody else; of course I'm not perfect! And why do you hate my height so much?"

Kurt sighed. "It's not you, Blaine." He took a deep breath. "It's really not you, I promise."

"Then what is it?"

"I was supposed to be married. I was supposed to be married to a guy named Lian. I loved him, and I thought he loved me," Kurt said quietly. "Apparently, it was all just a lie. He didn't show up to the wedding, and I stood there, hating the looks people gave me." His voice trembled. "It was awful."

Blaine reached for Kurt's hand and tenderly rubbed his thumb over Kurt's palm. "It was even more awful when I had to go to what was supposed to be our honeymoon, alone. I had to go to Paris, and go to the Eiffel tower, alone, when all around me were couples kissing and so utterly happy." Kurt sipped his coffee, and Blaine could see the restrained tears in Kurt's eyes. "The worst was when I discovered that he only dated me for the fame. It was like a light bulb was turned on in my head, because suddenly, I realized the reason why there were so much paparazzi wherever we went."

"I can't believe that I fell for his lie when he told me that he didn't care if the paparazzi saw us kiss because he, apparently, loved me, when the truth was that he didn't care if the paparazzi saw because he would finally be famous," Kurt muttered silently.

"The reason," Kurt hiccupped. He cleared his throat and spoke, "the reason why I hated you the moment I saw you was because when I saw you, you reminded me too much of him. He had hazel eyes, and he was shorter than me by an inch or two, and he was muscular, just like you."

"I'm sorry," Kurt said silently, wiping his tears, "I must be scaring you right now."

"Don't worry, you're not."

"Come on," Kurt said. "We should go helmet-hair."

"You're insulting me again."

"I can't help it, it's like a reflex!"

"Wait," Blaine said, grabbing Kurt's arm before they could go outside the coffee shop, "do you want to, like, have dinner with me sometime?"

Kurt smiled. "When?"

"Tomorrow? And can I have your number?"

Kurt nodded and handed his phone. Blaine did the same and was grinning like a fool the moment they got their phones back.

"So…tomorrow?" Kurt asked, smiling.

"Tomorrow."

* * *

><p>"Now, we're going to test your ability behind the runway. We're going to time you, and you should be done dressing by two minutes. When time's up, we're going to open the divider and make you walk to the front, regardless of whether or not you managed to put on pants," Kurt said. "Behind the divider are your names, and under your names are some of my designs. You're going to put them on under two minutes, and strut out."<p>

"Everybody, places!" Mercedes shouted. "And, start!"

Blaine quickly went to where his place was and started putting on the pants, then the shirt, then the rest of it. He was panicking because never had he been trained like this, and because he knew that he only had a few seconds left. His co-models were also having a hard time, and Blaine pitied the ones who had to get inside their skinny jeans.

"And time's up!"

The divider was suddenly opened, and Blaine had managed to put on his hat. He felt proud of himself for managing to dress up in under two minutes. The models walked to the front nervously.

Blaine was nervous. His hands were sweating profusely, and he inconspicuously rubbed them against the side of his pants to try and remove the sweat.

No such luck.

"Walk forward, one by one, pause for about five minutes, and go back to your current place."

Blaine watched as Sue pointed out the things wrong with the models. Vanessa didn't have enough time to pull on her right shoe, Jane had her buttons all wrong, Cristelle hadn't tied the bow around her dress, Penny hadn't put on the belt, and Ollie had the right boot on her left foot and vice versa.

It was now time for Blaine.

He stepped forward, trying to calm himself, trying to think of things he might have forgotten to do, and came up empty.

Of course, just because he came up empty doesn't mean the judges didn't.

"White boy," Mercedes said, "you forgot to zip your pants."

And at that moment he realized just how unprepared he was for this model business. Seriously, he was one of the best—the cream of the crop—and yet, he _forgot to zip his pants._

"We realize that you are proud of your…_manhood_…but you don't really need to strut it around," Mercedes gently said, and Blaine blushed when he saw Kurt trying to stifle his giggles behind his hand.

Sue watched with a smirk as Blaine turned redder. "You know, I actually feel sorry for you. Go ahead and zip."

Blaine mouthed a 'thank you' to Sue and zipped his pants. Once Kurt had managed to keep his laughs at bay, he said, "You better improve, Anderson. I don't really want the paparazzi to get the wrong impression. Remember, it's the clothes I made that you're modeling, not the underwear."

Blaine glanced at Kurt, confusion all over his face. He thought Kurt was done teasing him.

Apparently not.

"Next."

Blaine went back to his former place and watched as the other models—David included—also managed to make complete fools of themselves in front of the judges. When everyone was done, the three judges stood up and Kurt shook Sue and Mercedes' hands. Once the two were finally out of the room, Kurt spoke.

"Okay, model training is done for the day, but I can't help but feel disappointed at how all of you weren't trained properly. Fashion is no laughing matter. Tomorrow, I expect you all to be here at seven, to resume the model training. We will do this again tomorrow, so you might as well practice at home. You can all go home now."

The models went back to the divider to change into their clothes and mumbled goodbyes before leaving. Blaine waited for Kurt, before they left together.

"I thought you were done with teasing me?" Blaine asked.

"Sorry," said Kurt, "habit."

As they left the building, they each said their goodbyes as Kurt got inside his car. As Blaine stood outside, waiting for a cab, rain suddenly poured down, ruining Blaine's already bad mood. It was a few minutes later when a cab finally appeared, and Blaine finally got to his home.

Needless to say, the next day, Blaine was sick.


	4. Chapter 4

Author's note: 57 story alerts. 21 Favorite story alerts. Two thousand something hits. I know that to some, that may not be enough, but I am so happy with those. Really. I'm so thankful that many people like my little story. Again, thank you, and hope you enjoy! (Reviews are my inspiration to write, so leave some of those.)

Funny thing happened; when I was writing this chapter in which Blaine's sick, I became sick. (I'm still trying to convince my family that it was a sign that I should never harm Blaine. XD)

Disclaimer: I don't own Glee.

**Day 3: Sick Puppy**

Kurt Hummel knew there was something wrong when he went inside his office and got smacked in the face with a lot of tissue papers, and not only tissue papers, at that, but _used tissue papers_.

Yuck.

He quickly removed them from his face and from his precious McQueen coat, and turned around, ready to glare at the person who had dared throw used tissue papers at his coat. He gave the person his famous bitch face, and the person, who was no other than Blaine Anderson, just yawned.

"What is wrong with you?" Kurt shouted, sitting behind his desk.

"What is wrong with me?" Blaine asked; his tone incredulous. "You're the one who started shouting at me."

"Well you're the one who threw numerous pieces of used tissue papers at my face, _and _my coat. Do you have any, _any_ idea how much this coat cost?" Kurt asked.

"I'm sorry," Blaine said apologetically. "I honestly didn't see you. I was just aiming for the trash bin near the door."

Kurt looked at Blaine who had put the two chairs at his desk near the other and laid there.

"Blaine," Kurt said, his eyes softening, "you do know there's a trash bin behind this desk."

"Really?" Blaine said; his eyes closing as he started to hug himself, "I'm sorry, I didn't see that."

Kurt took off his coat and wrinkled his nose at the sight of snot running down the lapels. He put it in a plastic bag and whimpered when he saw that it couldn't be worn anymore. He sighed and put it beside the trash bin for disposal. He then focused his attention at Blaine.

Blaine had his eyes closed, already sleeping, and snoring quietly. He hadn't put gel in his hair, and he was deathly pale. Kurt went near him and resisted the urge to put his hands in his hair, instead, putting his hand on Blaine's forehead, trying to see if Blaine had a fever.

He frowned when he felt that Blaine was really, really hot. He then blushed, mentally chastising himself for thinking about Blaine like _that_ while he was sick.

He sighed, and went behind his desk. He quickly called his secretary, and within seconds, Ciara responded.

"Yes, Mr. Hummel?"

"What's my schedule for today?" Kurt asked, looking at Blaine who was currently shivering from the cold. Kurt sighed and turned off his air conditioner. Blaine made a happy noise and snuggled in his coat that was his makeshift blanket.

"Well, you have that model training for today. You have a meeting with Ms. Rachel Berry at one o' clock about you including some of her designs for your fashion show, and you were supposed to have dinner later. The person you were supposed to be going with was not specified."

Kurt sighed. They were supposed to have their date tonight. Oh well, there are other days.

"Cancel them all."

"Even the meeting?"

"Yes," Kurt said without regret. "Besides, I wouldn't agree to Ms. Berry, anyway. Her animal sweaters are atrocious. I wouldn't let those go near any of my designs. When the models show up, tell them that model training has been rescheduled to the day after tomorrow. Tell them to come here at seven in the morning."

"Yes sir."

Kurt hung up the phone and looked at Blaine. Sighing, he nudged Blaine awake.

"What?" Blaine blearily asked.

"Come on, I'm taking you home."

Blaine opened his eyes sleepily and looked at Kurt. "But we have model training."

"That's okay, I rescheduled it."

"You rescheduled it for me? I feel so honored." Blaine's voice lacked its usual sarcasm, and his eyes lacked its usual gleam. His eyes were dull, and his voice was quiet, as if talking was such an effort.

Kurt sighed and helped Blaine up. He made Blaine put on his coat while Kurt grabbed his bag and called his driver.

"Bring the car out front. We'll be going somewhere," Kurt said while he supported Blaine who had trouble standing up by himself.

"Yes sir. Will I be the one driving?"

"No. I'll be the one to drive. Just go home; I won't need your services today. Tomorrow," Kurt gasped as Blaine almost slid out of his grasp. Then, he continued, "Tomorrow, you won't be needed. You'll resume work the day after tomorrow."

"Yes sir."

Kurt ended the call and helped Blaine stand up. Blaine couldn't help but slump as he had no more energy to stand up. Kurt sighed and put his arms around Blaine's waist, grunting as he tried to slightly carry Blaine, making him stand up. He tried to release his hold around Blaine, but Blaine only slumped further, so Kurt just sighed, put his arms around Blaine, and made him stand up.

With Blaine against Kurt's chest, Kurt tried to get them outside his office and into the elevator by half walking with Blaine, and half carrying him. After a few minutes, Kurt finally managed to bring them into the elevator and managed to press the button that would take them to the lobby while holding Blaine.

"I always knew you wanted to take advantage of me," Blaine sleepily said.

Kurt blushed.

"Don't flatter yourself, Anderson."

Blaine gave a weak chuckle. "You already said that. Are you running out of witty remarks, Hummel?" he said sleepily.

Kurt watched Blaine's eyes flutter, and smiled.

"Fuck you."

"I would, too."

Kurt laughed, his head thrown back, and Blaine smiled softly. It wasn't really a grin, or his usual smirk. It was more of a slight raise of his lip's edges.

The elevator dinged, and the doors opened. Kurt sighed, tightening his hold around Blaine's waist, and slightly carried Blaine until Blaine was on his feet and not slumping anymore. He then proceeded to do what he did when they were in his office, but Blaine kept slumping, no matter how tight Kurt's hold was. Kurt glared at him and proceeded to just half carry, half walk Blaine to his car, never mind that Blaine's feet were dragging across the floor. After what seemed like hours, but in truth were only minutes, Kurt finally had Blaine in his car.

Letting out a relieved sigh, Kurt got in his car, turned the ignition on, and drove to Blaine's apartment.

* * *

><p>After two sighs from Kurt, and countless minutes of dragging Blaine to his apartment, Blaine was finally in his bed. Kurt sighed, and sat down beside Blaine.<p>

"Thanks," Blaine muttered.

"No problem."

Kurt turned to go outside Blaine's bedroom as he felt like he was invading Blaine's privacy, but then he stopped and faced Blaine. "Do you…uhm…need to…?"

"What? I didn't hear that last bit," Blaine weakly said.

"Do you need to change into your pajamas?" Kurt's voice started from loud to squeaky, as if he was ashamed to be asking such a question.

Blaine blushed. He wanted to change, but he knew he wouldn't have enough strength to change into his pajamas. He didn't want to ask for Kurt's help as he knew that it would be pretty awkward, plus, it was just not right. Somewhere, in his subconscious, he knew he wanted to ask for Kurt's help, but Blaine mentally shook his head. But slowly, he became more and more convinced that he needed Kurt's help. After all, it was kind of uncomfortable to sleep in his jeans.

"S-s-sure," Blaine stuttered, "I mean, if you can help me…b-b-because I honestly don't think I can actually stand up much less change my clothes, and I think I really need your help and okay, that might be awkward but it really is kind of uncomfortable to sleep in my jeans and I'm not actually forcing you to help me, you can actually just ignore me and my rambling, and oh my wizard god, I might be freaking you out, so I'm going to shut up now…"

Kurt smiled. "You're adorable when you ramble."

Blaine blushed even more. "So, are you going to help me?" he mumbled.

Kurt nodded, and Blaine smiled appreciatively. "Can you please go to my wardrobe and open it? When you open it, there should be drawers on the right side of the wardrobe, and well, my pajamas are in there. Open the first drawer, fifth drawer, and the sixth drawer, and just pick anything."

"Don't you want to take a bath? It might help with your fever."

"Okay," he mumbled. "Yeah, that actually sounds good. Can you help me up?" he asked, raising his hand in a gesture for help. Kurt grabbed his hand and got him to stand up. He walked Blaine to the direction of his bathroom, and Blaine thanked him.

"If you need my help, just tell me, okay?" Kurt said. Blaine nodded, and without a word, closed the door.

After a few minutes, Kurt decided that no, Blaine wasn't going to need his help, and so, walked back to the living room. He glanced around and decided that Blaine's apartment was really nice. A while ago, while he was hauling Blaine, he didn't actually had time to look at Blaine's apartment properly. But now that he had time, he realized that it was actually quite nicely decorated. It felt like home.

The apartment was big, not exactly Kurt's apartment _big_, but big nonetheless. It had hardwood floors, save for the kitchen and the bathroom which had tiles. Blaine's living room had cream walls and brown curtains that reached the floor, and in front of the curtains was a big cream sofa that looked comfortable and used unlike Kurt's which looked comfortable, but didn't look like it was used. There was a small glass table in the middle of the room, and on the wall opposite the couch was a big TV.

Walking towards Blaine's kitchen, Kurt noted that Blaine had several pictures on his wall. He continued walking to Blaine's kitchen and saw that it was nicely decorated too. The appliances were all made of steel, and there were cupboards below, and on top of said appliances. There was a sink on the kitchen island, and in front of the kitchen island were three red barstools. Unlike the living room which was designed like it belonged in a bungalow house, the kitchen was modern. The walls were black, and the things in the kitchen, if they weren't made up of steel, would either be colored black, red, or white.

Kurt made a sound of approval and walked to Blaine's bedroom. Blaine's bedroom had light blue curtains, and the walls were painted baby blue. There was a king sized bed on one side of the bedroom, and there were two nightstands with two lamps on them placed on either side of the bed. On the wall opposite the bed, there was, again, a big TV, and there was a small table under the TV that contained his DVD player and on either side of the TV were two cabinets that housed Blaine's DVDs. Blaine's wardrobe was on the left side of the bed, about three steps away. On the left side of the TV and the cabinet was a large bookcase, and on the right side of the TV was a door that lead to Blaine's bathroom.

Kurt sat on Blaine's bed and saw that Blaine had a guitar case near the window.

"Kurt?"

Kurt sat up and responded, "Yes?"

"Can you please bring me my pajamas?"

Kurt stood up, got the pajamas and knocked on the door. Blaine opened it slightly, got the pajamas and closed it again. "Thanks."

After a few seconds, Blaine walked out of his bathroom, his towel on his shoulders.

"Feel better?"

"Yeah, listen…thanks."

"It's no problem, really. You should lie down in bed though, you still look tired."

Blaine went back to the bathroom to put away his towel and went back to his bedroom, wordlessly lying down on his bed with Kurt sitting beside him.

"So, do you want to watch a movie?" Blaine asked.

Kurt smiled softly, "sure."

"I'm sorry for the date. Maybe we can have it tomorrow or the day after tomorrow, though?" Blaine asked shyly, his face blushing.

"Of course," Kurt said. "So, what do you want to watch?"

"Anything's fine with me."

Three Disney movies, five episodes of F.R.I.E.N.D.S, and a watching of Moulin Rouge later, Kurt's stomach rumbled, and they laughed.

"It's six. What do you want to eat?" Kurt asked. "I can't be able to cook seeing as you don't really have anything in your refrigerator besides frozen pizza."

"Maybe we can have Chinese?" Blaine requested.

"Okay. That's fine. I'll order."

After a half hour, Blaine and Kurt were eating on Blaine's bed with no disregard for keeping the sheets clean.

Blaine finished eating, putting his box of fried rice down and looked at Kurt. "You know, it's actually quite late. You should stay here. I mean, it's not safe for you to drive at this time."

Kurt surprised himself and Blaine when he responded, "sure."

Blaine grinned. "Great! I have some pajamas you can borrow."

Somewhere in the back of his mind, Blaine thought that it might be a wrong move, and that he might regret it later, but he didn't pay any attention to it as he handed Kurt a pair of sweatpants and a t-shirt.

Kurt looked at the t-shirt, amused. "Warble on? Really, Blaine…I mean, _seriously_."

"Hey! I'll have you know that when I was in high school, I was part of our glee club, and we were like rockstars."

"I have one question. Where will I sleep?"

"On the bed, of course," Blaine said. "It's big enough for the both of us."

Blaine still ignored the screaming in his head that it was too fast, considering they weren't dating yet. Blaine disregarded his instincts, and didn't take back what he said about Kurt staying at his apartment.

And later, when he would have a nightmare, Kurt would just comfort him, bring him some water, and try to get him back to sleep.

And the shouting in Blaine's head didn't continue anymore, because Blaine knew, without a doubt, that making Kurt stay was one of the best decisions he ever made.


	5. Chapter 5

Author's note: Thank you for the reviews! I'm so sorry for the late update because, well, life got in the way of my writing. (I know. Priorities.) This was so hard to write, and I don't know why.

Disclaimer: I don't own Glee.

**Day 4: The Holy Hotness Trio**

Wesley Montgomery was a known manager. He took only the best, and if he did take someone who wasn't the best, he would make them the best. He was one of the most sought after manager, mainly because of two things; he knew how to make models rich and popular fast, and because he handled two of the most famous models; Blaine Anderson, and David Thompson.

Of course, the fact that he was friends with them didn't hurt either.

Models wanted to be taken under his wing, wanted to be his models because he was, without a doubt, the best of the best. He obviously knew what he did, and he knew everything about the fashion industry and what to do to get to the top.

For most models, to be taken under _the_ Wesley Montgomery, and to work for _the_ Kurt Hummel would be a blessing because models knew that if those did happen to them, they'd get rich and popular fast.

But Wesley didn't care about those facts at all. What was important was that he loved what he did, and that he helped his friends be better models, and that they would still be friends no matter what.

Which was why he went to Blaine's apartment after hearing that he was sick.

But Wesley was starting to doubt his decision after he went inside the apartment and closed the door gently behind him.

"_Blaine, open up."_

At first, Wes ignored it, thinking that it probably wasn't what he was thinking, but after a few seconds, Blaine moaned.

And Wesley stopped in his tracks.

"_Oh my God, that is so good, Kurt. More please, Kurt."_

Wesley started inching back towards the door, determined to get the hell away, but then he remembered that he visited because he wanted to see if Blaine got better.

"_Be careful, Blaine! It might hurt a bit if you're not careful!"_

But by the sound of it, Blaine might already be better.

Wesley stood there for a minute, checking for signs that they were done, and he took a step when he abruptly stopped after hearing another moan.

"_Ah, Kurt!"_

Wesley put his hands on his ears, disgusted at himself for staying in the apartment when Blaine and Kurt were probably doing…_things_.

"_I'm coming Blaine!"_

He stilled and walked towards the direction of Blaine's bedroom door, determined to tell Blaine that enough was enough, and that if he was better, he should have just went to work.

When he opened the door, however, he saw something he didn't expect.

Blaine was Indian sitting on his bed, soup on his chest, while Kurt gently moved the cloth on Blaine's chest, trying to clean all the spilled soup. Kurt looked up at the sound of the door opening and smiled at him softly.

"Hi, you must be Wes, right?"

"Yeah, yeah, I'm Wesley Montgomery, Blaine's manager. What happened?" Wes asked.

"Blaine spilled the soup, so I'm trying my best to clean the mess. Honestly…I told him to be careful, but _no_, he just had to spill it over himself."

Wes blushed to the roots of his hair, not believing the fact that he had thought Blaine and Kurt were having sex, when in fact, Kurt was just feeding him soup. He sneaked a peek at Blaine and Kurt and sighed in relief when he saw that Blaine had his eyes closed and that Kurt was too busy cleaning Blaine up to notice that he blushed.

Kurt stood up, walked to the bathroom, and washed the cloth, while Blaine moaned because hot soup trickled down his chest to his stomach.

"I'm coming Blaine, just wait for a second, okay?"

So that was why Wes heard Kurt shout "I'm coming Blaine!" a while ago.

Kurt came back after a few minutes and continued doing his best to clean Blaine up. When Blaine was finally clean, Kurt went back to the bathroom, and Blaine opened his eyes.

"Hi Wes," said Blaine.

"Hey man, how are you?" Wes asked, sitting on the bed.

"I'm fine."

"I brought you your favorite soup from that restaurant," Wes said, holding out a container filled with soup, "and that pesto you're so fond of."

Blaine smiled. "Thanks, Wes. You're the best."

"David's coming by in a few hours."

"Good," said Kurt who had just exited the bathroom. "I have to leave, anyway. My secretary just called me and said that there is someone waiting for me back at the office."

He turned to look at Blaine. "I'll come back when I'm done, okay? In the meantime, stay with Wes and be careful. I'll just go back to my apartment for a quick change of clothes, and then I'm back to the office."

He kissed Blaine's forehead, and Blaine blushed, secretly loving the contact. Kurt smiled and waved at Wes, and after a few minutes, Blaine and Wes heard the front door closing.

"So, can you still play video games?"

"I'm never sick enough to not play video games," Blaine said.

* * *

><p>Kurt Hummel walked across the room, his steps sure and steady, his eyes focused. He vaguely saw a figure in his office, and strode confidently until he reached his office and opened the door. He immediately went to his desk, sat down, and looked at the person in front of him.<p>

"Hello, Lian. To what do I owe the displeasure of meeting you?" Kurt said coldly.

The guy named Lian looked at Kurt with an easy, confident look, his eyes calculating, his posture, perfect. He had spiky blonde hair and cold gray eyes. His jaw was defined, and he was muscled, not overly so, but just right.

Kurt couldn't believe he ever felt anything for the guy.

"So now, you dislike meeting me? Not too long ago, you waited for me, didn't you, Kurt?" Lian said, his mouth turning into a smirk.

"That was then, this is now. What do you want?"

"My, my, Kurt. Where was the Kurt I knew? The Kurt I knew was kind and innocent, who was putty in my hands."

"He changed."

Lian stood up, his gray eyes cold. "Well, maybe he just changed because he no longer has the great Lian by his side," he said, walking around Kurt's desk until he reached Kurt, and put his jaw on Kurt's shoulder, whispering. "I bet you missed me and our time together."

Kurt stood up, walking around the desk so that there was something between them and scoffed.

"_You_? Oh please, Lian. I own pens longer than your dick," he said bluntly. "Again, what do you want, Lian? Stop wasting my time."

"I want to have a competition with you. In a week, original designs, on a runway. What do you say? Of course, we can have other fashion designers present their original designs too, but they would only be there for intermission. The main focus would be on us and our designs. Whoever gets the most positive reviews on Vogue would be the winner," Lian said surely.

"What makes you think I'll agree to your terms?" Kurt asked, raising an eyebrow.

"I don't think so, Kurt. I know so, because you are too proud to miss an opportunity such as this to compete with your own ex fiancée."

"You know what, Lian? It is so on, because you thought right; I am going to compete with you," said Kurt. "Technically though, it isn't competing if I already know I'm going to win."

Lian laughed; a clear daunting kind of laugh, one he used against his enemies. "Cocky, are we? Well, I have to go, seeing as I have to prepare for our competition, but remember; original designs, on a runway, one week from now. Understood?"

"Of course," Kurt said stoically.

"You know," Lian said, looking at Kurt from all angles before opening the door, "I actually liked you."

"I did too, until you ruined everything," Kurt admitted.

"I learned early, and that was why I had to break things up."

"Why?"

"It's a cruel world, Kurt. We're both famous, and we can't afford to be vulnerable and be loved by anyone, especially with the paparazzi around. One small shred of vulnerability and you can lose everything you worked hard for."

"Then why did you do that to me?"

"Because I had to save myself before things blew up."

Seconds turned into minutes, and finally, Lian walked away, the door closing behind him.

And Kurt wondered if Lian was really right.

* * *

><p>Kurt closed the door silently behind him, befuddled as to why the place was filled with loud laughter. He got the answer to his question as he opened Blaine's door and found three grown men playing video games.<p>

"Hi Kurt!" Blaine said excitedly.

Kurt looked with disgust at the various containers of chips and unhealthy snacks.

"You're supposed to be sick, Blaine."

Blaine shrugged in response, looking intently at the television screen as he tried to win. Kurt then noticed that the two other men were no one else but David Thompson, and Wesley Montgomery.

"And hello to you too," Kurt said sarcastically.

They kept on playing, as if they didn't hear Kurt.

"Anyway, why are you even here, Kurt? I mean, I thought you would have been preparing by now," said Blaine, looking at the television screen.

Kurt looked at Blaine, confused. "Preparing for what?"

"Don't tell me you forgot, Kurt. We have a date, remember?" Blaine said, smiling.

David quickly paused the game and put the controller on the bed. "Wait, hold up, Blainers. Did you really just say that you and Kurt have a date?"

Wes let go of the controller he was holding and looked at Blaine. "You're having a date?" he asked rhetorically, mockingly dabbing the edges of his eyes with the blanket on the bed. "Oh my, David, our own little Blaine is growing up, I'm so proud."

Kurt stood there with an amused look on his face as he looked at Blaine who was quickly panicking because Blaine had been friends with those two since high school, and he knew that danger was coming in the form of David and Wes, fast.

"Yes, I have a date with Kurt, okay? Now let's continue playing," said Blaine, grabbing the controller.

"Not so fast, Blainers. You have a date, and that's important. That comes first before video games. So, question is, where are you taking him?" asked Wes.

"Somewhere," mumbled Blaine.

"The leader of the holy hotness trio is actually going to have a date, Wes. This is an unforgettable day," said David excitedly like an excited puppy.

Kurt laughed. "Wait, wait. Did you just say, 'the holy hotness trio'? What is that?"

"It's a club with me, Wes, and Blaine as members. When we were in high school, we were dubbed as the holy hotness trio with Blaine as the leader since girls and guys fell for him. It didn't help that he was the lead soloist back when we were in glee club," explained David.

Kurt laughed as he looked at Blaine who was blushing.

"The holy hotness trio, Blaine? _Really_?"

"It's not my fault, okay? The school just named us that," muttered Blaine, his face as red as a tomato.

"And then, it became _the Pentagon _when Nick and Jeff joined," Wes said.

"And Blaine was still leader," David said, nodding his head slowly.

Kurt laughed as Blaine led him out of the room, telling him to prepare for their date.

* * *

><p>Kurt smiled as he looked at his reflection in the mirror. He was wearing a black silk long sleeved button down, black skintight jeans, a long black pea coat, and his black Doc Martens. He put a black fedora hat on his head, careful not to mess the hair he had spent so much time on.<p>

There was a knock on his door, and Kurt opened it, smiling when he saw Blaine.

"You look wonderful," Blaine said softly.

Kurt looked at Blaine. He was wearing a dark green long sleeved button down, black slacks, and black leather shoes. He was holding a black trench coat and a long stemmed rose.

"This is for you," Blaine said, blushing, as he handed Kurt the long stemmed rose.

"Thank you," Kurt said, opening the door to let Blaine in. "Come on in. I'm going to look for a vase."

Blaine went inside and surveyed the room. It was homey, in a way, and it was obvious that Kurt designed the apartment.

After a few minutes, Kurt returned to the living room. "Let's go."

Blaine stood up, took his hand in his, and went outside, stopping for a bit to let Kurt lock his apartment.

They got into Blaine's car, and after a few minutes of comfortable silence, they had arrived at a fancy restaurant. Kurt got out of the car, and Blaine handed his keys to the valet. Blaine took his hand, and Kurt, surprised, look at him, smiling when Blaine caressed the back of his hand with his thumb.

They were lead to their table, and despite the comfortable silence between them, Kurt was nervous. He sat down on his chair as he panicked, wondering if he hadn't dressed to the occasion. Or perhaps, he was too dressed?

Blaine looked at him and smiled softly. "Relax," he said.

"I can't help it," said Kurt. "All of my other boyfriends broke up with me. And one left me at the altar. You can't really blame me."

"Well, I promise that I'll be good to you, don't worry," Blaine said.

After a few minutes, the waitress arrived, bringing them the menu. Kurt, of course, picked something healthy, and after ordering, Blaine chuckled, telling Kurt to loosen up a bit.

Like all first dates, their dinner was slightly awkward because of the few awkward pauses and tensed moments they had. After a while though, both started to relax and found that they actually had a lot in common.

At the end of the dinner, Blaine and Kurt had a slight disagreement as to who would get to pay for dinner, but in the end, Blaine won, and Kurt just said that next time, he would get to pay.

And both smiled at the promise of a next date.

Blaine took Kurt's hand in his, and they walked to a nearby park. Kurt thought it was romantic because the night was perfect. There were so many stars, and the park was beautiful, laden with trees and flowering plants. Snow continued to fall lazily, and Blaine's hand continued to make him warm.

After a few seconds, they had reached a once beautiful lake that was now frozen. Blaine walked to the side of the frozen lake and got out two pairs of ice skating shoes. Kurt wordlessly went with Blaine to one of the benches nearby and put on his skating shoes, surprised that it fit him perfectly. He looked at Blaine, confusion written all over his face.

Blaine blushed. "I sort of borrowed your shoes this morning when you were still asleep, and wrote the size on a paper."

Kurt smiled softly, looking at Blaine with adoration. "I think it's sweet. There's one problem, though. I don't know how to ice skate."

"I'll help you."

They walked to the lake, and Blaine helped Kurt get used to ice skating. He grabbed Kurt's hand and slowly skated, his arms ready to catch Kurt if Kurt ever slipped.

After a few minutes, Blaine decided to be daring and grabbed Kurt's hand softly, skating in a fast manner around the rink. Kurt let out a squeal, surprised at the sudden motion, and then he realized what was happening and panicked.

"Blaine! It's too fast," said Kurt, afraid of slipping once again. Blaine took pity on him and slowed down gradually, stopping in the middle of the frozen lake. When they were slowly stopping, Kurt slipped, and Blaine quickly got his arms around Kurt's waist, securing him in his arms. Kurt blushed, secretly loving the feel of Blaine's arms around him, and thanked everything he could think of that it was snowing, and that he could blame his blush on the cold.

Blaine looked at Kurt's wonderful blue eyes and inched forward, until his lips softly met Kurt's, his lips and tongue having a mind of their own, his tongue touching Kurt's bottom lip, and Kurt moaned, his arms around Blaine's neck, his eyes squeezed shut.

Blaine's tongue went inside Kurt's mouth, quickly finding Kurt's tongue, and battling for dominance. Their tongues rubbed against each other, explored the other's mouth, loving the sweet sensation and the unique tastes their tongues sampled. Kurt was so sweet, tasting of the salad he had had earlier, and the wine they drank. Blaine inhaled, loving the smell of Kurt; lavender and jasmine, and loving the fact that Kurt was all around him whether it be in taste, smell, or touch.

Suddenly, it all became too much, and the two parted, gasping for air, smiling with their foreheads touching each other.

Seconds turned into minutes, and Blaine and Kurt went towards one another again, their mouths busy with the other in a very heated kiss.

And there, in a park, with snow falling slowly, and them kissing in the middle of a frozen lake, Kurt thought no more about his problems with Lian.

He forgot them all.

Because that moment?

It was perfect, and Kurt would want nothing more.


	6. Chapter 6

Author's note: Thank you for the reviews!

Disclaimer: I don't own Glee as it belongs to Ryan Murphy and some other people.

**Day 5: Prepare Me a Show**

_His gasps could be heard all throughout the room, his blunt fingernails making their way down Blaine's back making him moan. He kissed his way down Blaine's throat, tasting the unique taste that was just…Blaine. His hands made their way to Blaine's…assets, and he squeezed it, resulting in a moan._

Kurt smiled in his sleep, turning to his other side, squeezing the pillow he was hugging to his chest.

_Blaine mewled as Kurt grabbed his cock, stroking it firmly up and down; making Blaine gasp for more. Kurt smirked and blew hot air to his ear, saying in a low voice, "do you want more?"_

_Blaine moaned louder, his head thrown back, exposing his neck to Kurt. "Yes," he answered huskily. "More. Please Kurt, please."_

Kurt frowned as he felt something poke his hip. He moved away from it, clutching his pillow to his chest harder as he tried to remain in dreamland.

_Blaine's hands felt rough and yet so good on Kurt's skin, the calluses on his fingers caused by guitar playing so amazing on Kurt's cock. Kurt thrashed his head wildly and Blaine suddenly smirked and promptly stopped his firm strokes._

"_Why did you stop?" cried Kurt._

Kurt frowned as he felt another poke to his hip. He ignored it, choosing to try to remain in the dream but as he felt the last vestiges of the dream slipping away, he was left no other choice but to open his eyes. He opened his eyes slowly…

…and saw a guy's head staring back at him.

He shrieked and leapt away from the guy which caused him to fall from his bed, his backside hitting the floor.

The night before, after Blaine brought him home, Kurt had squealed and called Mercedes, telling her all about her date.

He didn't remember anything about meeting a guy and bringing him to his bed.

He looked on his bed and saw Mercedes laughing wildly, a plastic head in her hands. He let out the breath he didn't know he was holding.

"That was really mature of you Mercedes, really mature."

She couldn't help but laugh louder, clutching her stomach.

"Where did you even get that?" Kurt asked, indicating the plastic head she was holding.

"There's this costume and props shop about four blocks from here," she said. "They come pretty handy sometimes."

"I can see that," Kurt quipped dryly.

She smiled at him. "This is to get back at you for that stint you did three years ago."

Kurt gaped at her. "That was three years ago!"

"And I can still remember it to this day. Good thing I videotaped you freaking about a plastic head."

"Damn you Cedes. I love you, but sometimes you can be a real bitch."

She laughed. "You love me anyway. Anyway, I'm here to tell you that we have an hour left before we have to go to Santana and Brittany's. We still have to convince them to participate in our show, remember?"

He rubbed his hand on his face. "I totally forgot."

She smiled. "I would've if I had a date with a nice boy like you did yesterday."

"Just make yourself comfortable. I need to take a shower and prepare," he said, going to the direction of the bathroom.

"Hurry up, white boy."

* * *

><p>Kurt and Mercedes exited the luxury car and looked at the building before him, a sign near the top indicating that it was a building owned by Brittany and Santana. It was a very classy sign, made out of platinum and stainless steel, the words "That's BS!" embossed in a flat metal surface.<p>

"I wonder whether the BS up there means Brittany Santana or Bullshit," Mercedes mumbled, entering the building with Kurt, smiling briefly at the guard who opened the door.

"Honestly? I don't want to know," Kurt said, spotting the receptionist and going towards her direction. "Excuse me, miss?"

The woman looked up from her computer and smiled at Kurt.

"Good morning, how may I help you?" she said kindly.

"I'm Kurt Hummel and this is Mercedes Jones. I believe that we have an appointment with Miss Lopez and Miss Pierce?"

She smiled politely. "If you could please wait a moment," she said, looking at her computer once more. After a few seconds, she looked back up at Mercedes and Kurt. "You have an appointment in about twenty minutes, mister Hummel. You can wait there," she said, pointing to the waiting lounge near the entrance, "until the board meeting ends."

Mercedes smiled and nodded. "Thank you."

As they walked to the lounge, Mercedes turned to Kurt. "I still can't believe that out of all the fashion designers you choose to include in this mini competition between you and Lian, you choose them."

"They're good designers!" protested Kurt as he sat down on one of the sofas. "They were my classmates in college. Besides, I would rather have their dresses on the runway than Berry's."

The both shivered.

"Have you seen Berry's designs lately?" asked Mercedes. "I've seen her spring line and my head literally _hurt_. There was this neon green dress that had grizzly bears everywhere, and I mean _everywhere_. What's worse was that the dress had a matching scarf which had bear paw prints and was neon _orange_."

"Don't even get me started on that bubble skirt that was metallic silver and had white prints of tigers on them," said Kurt, shaking his head. He looked at his wristwatch and saw that they still had seventeen minutes left. "After this, I have to go to the office to get my sketchpad, and then we have an appointment with Miss Cohen-Chang. After that, we have an appointment with Sue, and finally, an appointment with Mister Abrams."

"Have you considered Mr. Schuester's designs?" asked Mercedes, grabbing a notebook from her shiny black bag.

Kurt shook his head. "He's busy with a fashion show two days from now. I have, however, considered Miss Fabray's designs and Miss Motta's designs. I would have to schedule an appointment with them first. Miss Motta is a last resort, though. It seems like she has an addiction to silver clothes and they constantly hurt my eyes."

Mercedes nodded and continued writing in her notebook. "What about Miss Pillsbury's designs?"

"No. She's included in the fashion show two days from now. And before you ask, Miss Holiday is also going there so no, I'm not considering her."

"Do you have any outfits prepared for the show?" she asked.

"I'm going to use some of the outfits meant for my fashion show that would occur twenty-five days from now. I can always design more outfits."

Heels walking in their direction caught Kurt's attention and he turned, seeing the receptionist from a while ago.

"They're ready for you," she said.

"Thank you."

Kurt and Mercedes stood up and went to the elevator. As Mercedes pressed the button for the highest floor level, Kurt watched the elevator doors close.

"What happened with Lian, anyway?"

"He was, as usual, being an asshole," said Kurt. "I can't even believe I ever fell for him in the first place."

"He might be an annoying son of a bitch but at least he still has his looks," shrugged Mercedes. "I mean, I know his gay but _damn._ If that body isn't hot, I don't know what hot even means anymore."

Kurt turned to look at Mercedes so fast he could have had whiplash. "What are you even talking about? Blaine's also hot, and he doesn't have that pig's manners, if he does have any."

"I don't know Kurt…Blaine's attractive, yes, but Lian is just so…_yum_, you know?"

"No, I do not know! Blaine's hot! He has these muscles that are just right, and those eyes that could just make you melt."

"And to think that just five days ago, you were complaining about how Blaine is short and that he had triangular eyebrows. And that night, you called me and told me how you thought his eyebrows were actually caterpillars."

Kurt's cheeks were tinted a faint red.

"And you said that those eyebrows were probably used for making fuzzy wires."

Kurt's cheeks became redder.

"And you said that he was probably the hobbit in The Lord of the Rings."

Kurt didn't know that it was possible for him to be redder, but apparently, it was.

"And you said that he was probably mistaken as a sixth grader when he was in college."

"Alright, I get it Mercedes!" he all but shouted. "In my defense, I was being judgemental and really mean. But I still believe that Blaine is hotter than Lian."

"Believe what you want," Mercedes shrugged.

The elevator doors opened and they quickly stepped out into the rich black carpeting of the room, giving them the perfect position to see the two ladies making out on the white leather couch near the white wall opposite the elevators.

Kurt cleared his throat.

"What?" snapped Santana as she stopped kissing Brittany.

"And hello to you too," Kurt sarcastically said, going to the couch.

"Hey Kurtie!"

"Hey Britt," he greeted as he kissed her cheek. "How are you?"

"I'm fine. Santana's pretty stressed out, though, so I was trying to make her relax with sweet lady kisses."

Mercedes smiled and kissed Brittany's cheek too. "Hey Brittany."

"So," Santana said, relaxing on the pure white sofa, getting her glass of wine daintily from the glass coffee table near the sofa she was sitting on, "why are you here?"

"We have an appointment with you, remember, Satan?"

"Cut to the crap, Hummel. Stop wasting my time and get this over with. What do you want? What are you here for?"

Kurt leaned forward, dropping a folder on the glass coffee table. Santana took the folder and opened it, sipping her wine while reading the contents of the files.

"I have a preposition for you," Kurt said, pouring wine into his wine glass.

Santana raised an eyebrow. "I'm listening."

"I've given you that folder. In it is a contract stating that if you and Brittany agree to join our mini fashion show a week from now, you shall be paid at least a hundred thousand dollars."

She nodded. "I don't think that's enough."

"What do you mean?" asked Kurt.

"Well, I mean, plenty of people want me in their fashion shows for more than just a hundred thousand dollars. What's in it for me?"

Kurt leaned forward. "Besides the fact that you're going to get at least a hundred thousand dollars? There will be an article in Vogue dedicated to the dresses you'll be presenting on the runway and who wouldn't want that?"

Santana tapped her chin with one long silver fingernail. "Go on," she said.

"I've already talked with Miss Rhodes and she has agreed with my terms. They are, after all, excited to cover this fashion show."

"Why are you even having this fashion show?" inquired Santana. "Isn't it kind of risky, even for you? Last I heard; you were going to have a fashion show at the end of the month."

"What can I say? I'm a man who loves danger," smirked Kurt.

Santana scoffed. "You love danger? Oh please Hummel. Miss Pillsbury could love more danger than you can."

Brittany was sporting a confused look. "But, doesn't Miss Pillsbury hate danger?"

Santana sighed and kissed Brittany's cheek. "It's a joke, hon."

Brittany's mouth opened in realization.

"The real reason is that well, my ex-fiancé, Lian, has challenged me. He wants to do this fashion show in which we would compete, and the winner would be the one who gets the most compliments from Vogue."

"If this is a competition, why are we in it?"

"Lian wants time for us to prepare, of course, so you will be part of the intermission."

Santana stood up. Her sleek black knee length dress swaying a bit as she walked towards one of the glass desks. She took something small and walked back to Kurt, giving him a card.

"We will think about it, and when we have made our choice, we'll call you."

Kurt nodded and stood up. "Bye, San. Bye Britt."

"Goodbye Kurt," Brittany said, frowning and hugging him. "We'll still see you from time to time, right?"

Kurt smiled. "Of course, Britt. Your favorite dolphin won't stay away for very long."

"You're not a dolphin, silly," said Brittany, smiling, "you're a unicorn, remember?"

Kurt smiled and kissed her cheek. "Of course, honey."

* * *

><p>"I still have so many things to do," groaned Kurt as he turned a page in his notebook. "I still have to make sure that our location would be very fitting to the designs, I have to fix some of the clothes the models are going to wear, and I still have to design some more clothes."<p>

"Relax Kurt, everything's going to be just fine," said Mercedes as she looked at Kurt's notebook. "You'll be done with those in no time."

"I hope so, at least."

It was already eight in the evening. Kurt and Mercedes were inside the car, watching New York city from inside the car, the lights still turned on and the people still outside in the city with no sleep. The day passed by in a series of meetings with different designers, and short periods of time in which Kurt sketched more designs in his sketchbook.

"Well, at least you have someone to come home to," said Mercedes, playfully bumping into his shoulder.

He smiled. "You're going to have someone, someday."

"I'm happy being single, thank you very much."

Kurt laughed. "Just be your fabulous self, Mercy, and you'll be fine."

They laughed inside the car, disregarding the people and the lights outside. Little they did know, something big was going to happen, and that was something that Kurt would always regret.

But for now, they laughed and chatted merrily again with no care about the world.


	7. Chapter 7

Author's note: Okay, I am _so_ sorry for not updating until now—school has been hectic and _life_ happened, and well, you get my drift. Also, yes I did realize that I've updated almost a year after; believe me, I _know_. Also, I swear a lot so, yeah, warnings for that one. This fic might have a lot of curse words so be careful if you're reading this where your parents can see and uhm, yeah. Unbeta'd so don't expect perfection. All mistakes are mine.

Disclaimer: I don't own Glee. This isn't written for payment or whatever. I'll gladly write glee for free though, if it means I can get Kurt and Blaine back together.

**Day 6: The Bitches in New York City**

Ciara was a lot of things to _the_ Kurt Hummel of the fashion industry; his receptionist, his personal assistant (see: personal slave), and before _the_ Blaine Anderson walked inside the very building she was in at six-thirty in the morning, she was _the_ Kurt Hummel's very own personal verbal punching bag. For years, she had put up with her boss's insults, and learnt not to care much about said insults because in time, she learnt that even though her boss had _that_ attitude, he still appreciated her sticking around.

That didn't mean she wasn't grateful for Blaine's presence though. His presence meant her being finally able to get rid of the personalized calendar her friend had given her as a gag gift, one with enough space where Ciara was meant to write the insult of the day.

Honestly though, that calendar had dates up to 2015.

Ciara sighed happily as she finally got to sit down and bask in the silence—and the removal of weight on her five inch-heels—that would be gone in an another half hour. She booted up her computer, and let out a groan of frustration when the ringing of the telephone shattered the stillness of the peaceful air.

"Good morning, this is Ciara Bridgett from _Pavarotti_, how may I help you?" Ciara asked politely, nodding to herself when she saw that her computer was now available for use.

"Ciara! You have no idea what happened yesterday. I meant to tell you this last night but then I called and that girl Dina answered and told me you were out, but anyway, I was manning the front desk yesterday since, you know, it's my job, and well—"

Ciara's eyebrow rose higher and higher until she feared it would disappear into her hairline. She immediately stopped her friend's rambling. "Rose, stop. What is it?"

"Mister Hummel was here yesterday," Rose breathlessly said.

Ciara furrowed her eyebrows. "Yeah, so? He had an appointment with Miss Pierce and Miss Lopez."

"You don't get it. He said _excuse me_ and _thank you_!"

For a second, all Ciara could do was gape at her computer and blink, until she registered the fact that Rose was waiting for her reply.

"Oh my God."

Now, Ciara's life wasn't a true to life story of _The Devil Wears Prada _(except that on some cases, it totally was, never mind that Mister Hummel loved Doc Martens and Marc Jacobs than Prada) but what the tabloids have been saying for so long was actually true. More often than not, Ciara and the others avoided him if they could (which she couldn't do since she was his assistant) because of his lack of apathy and a heart, but when they absolutely had to be in the same room as him, they absently made themselves look smaller since looking smaller meant less chances of _the_ Kurt Hummel directing his attention on them.

When a person worked for _Pavarotti_, _the_ Kurt Hummel's attention on _them_ usually meant bad things in store.

It was universally known that Kurt Hummel had a quota for manners, and that he only used them for the people he loved or respected. But while all the little helpers who worked for Kurt Hummel were in absolute pain and misery, the people who worked for the great Sue Sylvester were being skinned alive. Most of Kurt's insults were gained from being Sue's star pupil, and so, the workers at _Cheerios_ were the lab rats of the insult factory, with all the products being made by Sue.

Really, Rose and Ciara were thankful they worked in the fashion industry. They were even more thankful that they didn't work for _her_.

Occasionally though, since Sue seemed to hold Kurt somewhere in that pumping machine called a _heart_, Ciara saw her more than what was desirable. Since Brittany and Santana were her students too, Rose often saw her too, though she saw her less than Ciara did.

"Is there something wrong with Mister Hummel?"

Ciara laughed. "Unfortunately, I don't know the answer to that. There's this guy who I think is the reason why Mister Hummel's a bit more bearable than what we're used to."

"Really? Is he hot, at least?"

Ciara nodded. "Definitely. He's so hot, his overall appearance makes people forget he's a bit short. I'd give you an essay dedicated to how hot he is, how gorgeous he looks in clothes and how even more gorgeous he looks without clothes, but I'm thinking you know who he is. Blaine Anderson?"

Ciara only had to wait three seconds before a loud squeal reached her ears and she had to put the phone away from her ear to avoid risking being deaf.

"Holy crap! He's there? How could you have _not_ told me?"

Ciara shrugged. "Well, you know as well as I do that if I told you, you'd visit me and be a creep to him and the other models. Remember last time? You peeked in the changing rooms. You were lucky you weren't sued. Even luckier was that you _still_ managed to get Anderson's autograph. And that was in a boutique in Brooklyn!"

"Let's not talk about that ever. The manager still refuses to let me into that store even though I want to buy that pair of pants from their autumn collection. I can't bring myself to actually regret it though, because oh my God, Blaine Anderson's chest looks a lot hotter in real life."

Ciara hummed in response. "Rose, dear, Blaine's _gay_. We all know that. You don't have a chance with him."

"A girl can dream!"

"And only dream. That does not mean leaving your job at one in the afternoon without any sort of explanation for your bosses and going across town, hoping to catch your crush topless or, God forbid, pants-less in a changing room," said Ciara a matter-of-factly.

"You crush my dreams," said Rose.

Ciara rolled her eyes. "Yeah, yeah, I crush your dreams and hurt your feelings. _Whatever_. I have gossip for you too."

"Hit me."

"Lian was here a day ago," said Ciara, clicking open a document on the computer. "He went to Mister Hummel's office and they talked. Lian made a proposition. That's the reason why Mister Hummel went there."

Rose made a sound of disapproval. "He should not have come back. Mister Hummel's still angry, right?"

"Definitely," said Ciara, nodding.

"Anyway, I have to go. Lord Tubbington has to be fed."

Ciara nodded in understanding. "All right. Bye."

* * *

><p>"Fashion is a very tricky thing," Kurt Hummel said as he walked in front of the models, all of whom were standing still and straight, "and more often than not, in this business, you're either in or you're out. Risk is big in this industry, so I have decided to tell you all that we have a show five days from now, an event that will be known all throughout the fashion industry within hours. Now, as you all know, all of you will be my models for the fashion show I'm having by the end of the month, and I know as well as you do that I didn't really hire you for the show I didn't expect to be having by next week. You are all free to back out, but if you do, remember that there is no going back in the group, as well as no getting out if you're planning to stay."<p>

The models didn't move an inch, barely nodding to show Kurt that they were listening.

"Those who want to back out, step forward."

Kurt waited a beat, then another, and nodded in approval when he saw no one moved a muscle. "Good. We will continue with training then. Now, I know all of you are the cream of the crop, seeing as Miss Jones personally picked you from whatever hell hole you've been in, but you are all _crap_."

The models flinched.

"This simply will not do," said Kurt, walking around the models, noting with satisfaction that Anderson was no longer hunching, "and I refuse my models to be second-best from Lian's. Unfortunately, Miss Sylvester can't be here, and neither can Miss Jones, but the show will go on. I want you all to dress under two minutes, only this time, with you not forgetting to zip up," Kurt said with a sharp look directed at Blaine.

Blaine just shrugged. It wasn't _his_ fault he forgot.

"My designs are behind that screen. Be good little minions and don't rip up the clothes in your haste to get into them. One little damage and you'll pay for them, both in money and in pain." Kurt looked at his expensive wristwatch, nodding to himself. "And, go."

The models quickly hurried behind the screen, the ladies moaning in displeasure when they saw the evening dresses. Blaine looked at the clothes he was supposed to wear; a light scarlet dress shirt, a pair of gray slacks with miniscule silver pinstripes, a navy blue blazer with brass buttons, a pair of Italian leather shoes, and a gray fedora hat with a single blue feather. He quickly dressed up, making sure all the buttons were alright, and that he zipped up his pants. He buttoned up his blazer, and jammed down the fedora hat at the last second, just before Kurt said stop.

One by one, the models stepped forward, most of whom had gotten better than last time. Kurt looked at the models one by one before arranging their clothes, styling them in the best possible way. It wasn't long before it was Blaine's turn, and he walked to the middle of the room, making sure not to trip or do anything even remotely embarrassing.

Kurt nodded in approval, before shaking his head and walking forward to tilt the fedora hat to the side and unbutton the blazer. "Anderson, do you know that I used to be a model?"

Blaine nodded his head slowly, unsure where the conversation was going to go.

"Being a model gives you perspective, gives you a clue as to what would make an article of clothing look best, doesn't it?"

Again, Blaine nodded.

Kurt removed the blazer from Blaine's shoulders, his hands lingering for a few more seconds than what was necessary, before handing Blaine the blazer. "Then you should have known that it would have looked better if you just hooked it over your shoulder."

Kurt looked at the models in the room. "This isn't just a test of whether or not you actually have enough brain cells to know how to put on clothes in under two minutes. This is a test of whether or not you actually know how to walk as a model. So next time," Kurt said, looking back to Blaine, "remove the blazer."

Blaine looked at Kurt, a twinkle in his eye. "Honey, you _love_ the blazer."

Without waiting for a reply, Blaine winked, turned around, and strutted away, making sure to sway his hips more than necessary, yet making it look as natural as could be.

If Kurt stared at how the pants made Blaine's ass look edible, no one knew anyway.

And yes, it was true.

Kurt _loved_ the blazer.

* * *

><p>"This is Hummel," said Kurt as he picked up the ringing phone.<p>

"Sir, Miss Lopez is on the phone. She's asking for you."

"Direct her call to me," said Kurt as he eyed over his sketch critically, before sighing and ripping off the paper, throwing it in the trash can.

Kurt only had to wait a second before a voice answered. "We accept."

"You really have to learn more about greetings, San," said Kurt dryly.

"Yeah, look, _whatever_. I don't care. What I do care about, or rather, _who_, is Brittany, and she wants to see her unicorn soon. She wanted the offer and well, she's wanted to feature her _Pink Vintage_ collection for ages. Fabray's seen them and she approves, and we all know vintage is Queen Quinn's forte."

"Send me pictures and I'll approve the ones I like," Kurt said as he sketched another outfit. "I'll need at least twelve outfits from you anyway."

"Good. I want to get my _Temptations_ line to get featured too. Be sure to get six from her and six from me."

"If you both have clothing lines, why aren't you putting on a show?" asked Kurt.

Santana's sigh could be heard, and the eyeroll inevitably coming with it was something Kurt expected, though he couldn't see it. "We would, but we can't. Milan Fashion Week is nearer than you think, and Brittany wants to join. Speaking of which, why aren't you joining this year?"

"My fashion show by the end of the month marks my fifth year in the fashion industry. This is pretty special, San."

Santana hummed in response. "Alright. Anyway, are we going to borrow your models, or are we getting our own?"

"You're borrowing my models," Kurt declared, looking up from his sketchpad. "I won't risk models I haven't trained."

Kurt knew Santana just rolled her eyes. "_Whatever_. I swear Hummel, you're so uptight, I wouldn't be surprised if you _do_ have an actual stick up your ass. What you need is someone to replace it with a dick."

Kurt spluttered in response. "Santana!"

"What? It's true. You need to get laid, Kurt. With all the issues you have about giving up power and responsibilities and the insecurities you have, you're bordering on plain insane. We are the bitches of New York City, Kurt, not the psychos of the Big Apple. Live a little."

Kurt rolled his eyes. "Whatever you say, San. Remember to send me the pictures."

"Yeah, yeah, I know. Remember to get laid. I heard from the receptionist that you actually said thank you to her yesterday. Better be careful Hummel, or else people will actually start thinking you have a heart."

"Ha ha, very funny, Santana," Kurt said dryly. "I'm leaving now."

"Get laid!"

"Bye, Santana."


End file.
